


White Water

by a_big_apple



Series: and it's bright [6]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Child Death, F/F, F/M, Positive ending, Sad Pearl (Steven Universe), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23165575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_big_apple/pseuds/a_big_apple
Summary: The beach never really changes. The shoreline has, creeping closer to the temple across the centuries; the peninsula certainly has, with human settlements rising and falling and rising again. Even the temple changes, erosion and battle damage, the house they built and repaired and rebuilt. But the ocean is always the ocean, a steady rumble in the background, white lines of breakers bubbling up onto the sand without cease.Pearl at three moments in her life: a hard one, a harder one, and one on the upswing. Written in response to Growing Pains, though not really about Steven.
Relationships: Pearl/Rose Quartz (Steven Universe), Rose Quartz/Greg Universe
Series: and it's bright [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619890
Comments: 19
Kudos: 82





	White Water

**Author's Note:**

> So I went on an off-season beach vacation and came back with...this? Please, PLEASE heed the tags and this warning: this fic depicts a suicide attempt (OC), heavy suicidal ideation, and the offscreen death of a child (OC). Pearl's journey has always felt like my own in some ways, but writ larger; this was cathartic for me to write for her because I'm looking back from a good place at events 20 or more years distant. If these themes are going to hurt or trigger you, be good to yourself and skip this one. If you're like me and you want a nice cry about it sometimes just to get it out of your system, hey, welcome, we made it. I have faith that the Crewniverse are gonna take care of our boy Steven, so here's me taking care of Pearl and Connie.

The beach never really changes. The shoreline has, creeping closer to the temple across the centuries; the peninsula certainly has, with human settlements rising and falling and rising again. Even the temple changes, erosion and battle damage, the house they built and repaired and rebuilt. But the ocean is always the ocean, a steady rumble in the background, white lines of breakers bubbling up onto the sand without cease.

When they first settled here, before the temple was even built, Pearl spent hours watching the ocean. She’d sit in the sand, chin on her knees, or on the high cliffside, or on a convenient rock. Anywhere they found a sea, it tugged at something down deep in her. The _smell_ of it, really; not exactly like the water all around her in the Reef, but brine is brine, even galaxies apart. They hadn’t even meant to stay here, the beach was just a resting place while they tracked another corrupted Gem. 

Then a foray to the Prime Kindergarten brought them Amethyst, and Rose said it would be good for her to have some sense of stability. Pearl secretly thought they _all_ could use more of that. They carved the temple door into the base of the cliff, and carved its rooms into the extradimensional space beyond; they gathered up the friends and enemies they’d bubbled and stashed across the planet, and collected them safely inside. They scavenged a warp pad from the site of a once-proposed gamma Kindergarten, installed it outside the door so they could go further afield. 

They fused for the first time on this beach, the four—five—of them, and Obsidian made short work of a monstrous corruption with rows upon rows of razor teeth that terrorized their stretch of coastline. Then Garnet’s future vision led them away, a not-so-merry chase of several years; when they returned, the humans had carved Obsidian’s image into the cliffside, her hands sheltering the entrance to their sanctum. It felt...well, it felt good, like home, like they belonged somewhere, and Pearl suffered a rare surge of affection for the fragile, fleeting beings she’d committed to protecting. Rose felt more than just a surge; she spent two decades playing with Quaquahela, and Pearl spent two decades sitting or standing or dancing or sparring with her toes in the surf. 

There was a woman, sometimes, who watched the ocean too. Humans had busy lives, making use of every ounce of daylight and every scrap of their resources, but this young woman seemed to spend what leisure she had in the same quiet contemplation Pearl did; for what reasons, Pearl never asked. But she came often, keeping her distance but still in sight. 

She came alone, at first, a single silhouette on the shoreline. Just when she started to become familiar, she changed, as humans do; grew and grew, outward in a rounded curve Pearl had observed before. She vanished for a little while, and reappeared with a tiny, squalling baby strapped to her back. Even over the waves, its cries carried, but the woman seemed unbothered; she bounced, or walked, or cradled it against her chest until it stopped, and went back to her quiet contemplation. 

The baby grew, in the strange way of humans. If Pearl’s observations were correct, it would soon be able to crawl about on its own. And then they stopped coming; and then, one of the many nights Rose had left Pearl behind, the woman reappeared alone. 

She stood and watched the ocean, as always, while Pearl swept through sword forms; the moon was just a sliver, and the stars covered by a heavy ceiling of clouds. It would rain soon, Pearl thought, and the air was chill. Perhaps that was why the woman had left her child at home?

Then slowly she stepped forward, toward the grasping edge of the water as it slipped up the beach. Further, up to her ankles; further, to her hips. It wasn’t until she disappeared beneath the farthest line of breakers and didn’t reemerge that Pearl understood something was wrong. Humans can’t just walk into the ocean. Humans need air. Humans are awfully fragile, and they have poor eyesight in the dark.

Pearl dropped her sword to the sand and darted down the beach, angling into the endless white lines of foam that seemed to glow in the barest moonlight. She could see better than a human, but not like daylight; as she crashed deeper into the surf she poured energy into her gem that exploded outward in a wide beam of light. Past the breakers now, she ducked under the surface, scanning frantically through the sand and silt her feet kicked up. Nothing, _nothing,_ and then—there! A figure, limp, pushed and pulled by the undercurrent.

With a burst of speed Pearl dove toward her, caught her around the waist and tugged her upward out of the tide’s grasp. But as they broke the surface, the lax body Pearl had assumed unconscious cried out, writhed and kicked and scratched in her arms with startling ferocity. It was all Pearl could do to hold on to her at first, and keep her face above the water; she nearly lost her grip and clutched her tighter. In between gasping gulps of air and water the woman was screaming, not afraid, but _angry._ “ _Danger,_ ” Pearl shouted back, dredging up the few words in the humans’ language that she could. “ _I help!_ ”

“ _No!_ ” she made out in answer, and “ _die_ ” and “ _please_.” In the light of Pearl’s gem the woman’s face was drawn, her eyes pinpricks. When they found Pearl’s, there was a look in them that cut through the baffling words, the ocean’s roaring, the yawning divide between human life and everything Pearl knew. 

It was the dismissive clap of hands and a sharp word, knowing that eons of the same stretched out ahead; it was the cries and cracks of the battlefield, glittering with shards, the weight of a Diamond in her hand; it was light and heat and a deafening _song_ , and the shocked stillness that followed; it was the ice in Pearl’s chest and the hot coal in her throat every time Rose smiled, and kissed her, and disappeared.

“ _No_ ,” Pearl growled, and pinned the woman’s arms with her own, and dragged her inexorably toward the shore.

The woman collapsed the moment they cleared the water, defeated and shivering, and pulled Pearl down with her weight. Her head hung as if she had no strength left at all; Pearl cradled her shoulders more gently, extinguished the light of her gem and plunged them back into darkness. When the woman spoke, throat scraped raw and hacking up seawater, all Pearl could catch was the word Rose said they called her. Pearl pulled a blanket from her gem, a heavy woolen one she’d picked up from a mission on another continent, and wrapped it around her, leaning close. “ _Baby?_ ” she murmured, aching, guessing the answer before it came. The woman’s mouth opened and a cracked, broken sound came out before she tipped sideways and hid her face in Pearl’s chest as though existing in the world for another moment was more than she could manage.

 _Who created these creatures_ , Pearl wondered, _with such short, hopeless lives? They come and go in the blink of an eye, no matter how we defend them._ The woman still shivered uncontrollably, though the blanket must have been warming her at least a little. Bundling her tighter, Pearl stood and lifted the woman into her arms, trudged up the beach and beyond the cliffside, into the tiny human settlement.

A cry rose up as she approached, torches flared to life, humans came running and crowded around her with sharp voices and worried faces. Pearl didn’t know the words to tell them what happened; didn’t know how to express it, even if she could speak to them in Gem. “ _Help_ ,” was all she could say, “ _danger_ ,” as humans lifted the woman from her hold; she stood there, strangely bereft as humans carried the woman out of sight and into one of their dwellings. Pearl turned, ready to slip away, when a hand caught hers—she turned back, to find Quaquahela. 

“Pearl,” he said, in crystal clear Gem. “Wait.” Then he looked back the way he came, and there was Rose, running toward her.

“Pearl!” she shouted, and Pearl couldn’t help turning toward her like a flower to the sun. “Pearl, are you all right? What’s happening?” Then Pearl was caught up in soft arms, surrounded by the flurry of Rose’s hair and the floaty layers of her dress.

“Rose,” Pearl said, trying to speak around the sudden lump in her throat. “Tell them to watch her. The woman. They need to watch her. She—she tried to shatter herself, she’ll try again.”

Pearl was suddenly shivering as hard as the woman had been, which was ridiculous, Gems don’t feel cold; Rose pulled back enough to look at her, wide-eyed, then turned to Quaquahela and stammered through an explanation Pearl couldn’t understand. Sorrow flashed across his face, and fear; he lay a hand on Rose’s arm, stretched up to kiss her cheek. Then he touched Pearl’s hand where it clutched at Rose. “Thank you,” he said, before hurrying away.

“Let’s go home,” Rose told her softly, lifting her off her feet. Pearl stared after Quaquahela, at the covered doorway the woman disappeared through, and let herself be held.

***

For the next few millennia Pearl gave the humans a wide berth. She built the fountains in her room, feeding them with fresh, clear water, and any time she wasn’t with Rose she was ensconced there. She went on missions with the others, of course; after a while she got numb to them, be it friend or foe they fought and poofed. But Garnet mostly kept her own company, and Amethyst hated to be cooped up even more than Rose did, so Pearl often returned to the temple alone after a foray into the wider world, caught up in organizing her growing weaponry collection or trying to contain Amethyst’s growing mess.

Rose tried so hard to draw her out more, bringing her books and blades and trinkets and news from every corner of the globe, and every few hundred years Pearl felt bad enough about it to let her; she’d follow where Rose led, back into human places that changed so much in so little time, a faithful knight and faithful lover through every “exciting” new culture or “charming” new plaything. Pearl was nobody’s toy—not anymore—and made sure everyone who saw her with Rose knew it.

The humans on the beach had changed, quite drastically. They were taller, some paler and some darker, wore more and more frivolous layers. Their technology had advanced, though nowhere near what Homeworld achieved even in Era 1; they grew louder and messier, they reached up into the sky and, interestingly, into the barest surrounding edges of space. Their fashion was all right, or at least Pearl had always thought so, but the rest she could take or leave. 

Then there was Greg, who she’d much rather leave.

Then there was Steven. Tiny, squalling, fragile. There in the blink of an eye; there, and Rose was gone.

Suddenly Pearl’s room, serene and orderly, was too small; the inside of the temple, though potentially infinite, felt stifling. Rose would never again pad through the water and wrap Pearl in her arms, draw her toward the door with smiles and kisses; would never watch Pearl dance with heated eyes, or match her sword for sword. The endless stretch of life Pearl once saw before them, dotted with distractions but still _theirs_ , together, collapsed. Was this what it truly meant for Pearl to be free? If it was, she didn’t want it—she would obey Rose’s every command, if that would bring her back. But nothing would bring her back, nothing could, all lost for the sake of an infant so breakable Pearl was afraid to touch him.

The ocean hadn’t changed. It still smelled like her earliest memories, like the first moments of possibility before she understood what she was built for, the moments after when she accepted her first commands and knew the future would be more of the same. Whether she sat or stood or danced, screamed or cried or fought, the ocean just kept tumbling toward her like a promise and drawing back like a lost dream.

Thousands of years later, Pearl could remember the weight of the human woman in her arms, her desperation and her defeat. Just another human, who’d grown a life inside her own body, cared for it more than her own. Just another human life, there and gone so fast it might as well have not existed at all. 

Greg’s van was parked on the beach for a visit again, and though it was night and they should both be sleeping, Steven’s wailing and Greg’s gentle singing reached her over the waves. The impulse to protect him was so strong; to guard his beloved gem, to shield his soft human body. The impulse to run away from the reality facing her was equally strong, like heavy clouds that moved across her mind, a sunless, moonless dark. There were no stars in the sky tonight either, and no moon, only the breaking waves glowing white in the faraway light of the boardwalk and a flat, endless black beyond. 

Pearl stood, and walked into the ocean. Steady, curious. She tried to imagine, as dark water closed over her head, what it would be like to need to breathe. To surrender herself entirely to the vicious undertow, to have the will to walk far enough that there could be no rescue, to have her life pulled at last out of her own hands and into the grip of the unbiased force of nature. There were rocks, under the water. She couldn’t drown, but she could let herself be carried, tossed as far and as long as it took to crack against some hidden shoal. She could let go, and wait to be shattered.

She stood her ground, feet firmly planted in the sand even as she swayed in the currents, and contemplated this for a long time. Then, slowly, the dark water started to lighten; her shadow appeared, stretching along the seafloor, as a glow approached from behind her. It brightened and brightened, until a hand grasped hers, and arms wrapped around her waist. She looked up, and found Garnet standing beside her. She looked down, and found Amethyst watching her, eyes wide and scared. She gripped Garnet’s hand, gem pressing warm into her palm, and smoothed Amethyst’s wild hair back from her face as the water pulled at it. Then she closed her eyes, hung her head, and let them lead her up to the shore.

They sat with her in the cradle of Obsidian’s fallen hand, their backs to the ocean, until the sun rose. Greg emerged from the van soon after; nothing was spoken that Pearl could hear, but she could tell even with her head hung low that a _conversation_ was happening above her. Then, quite abruptly, a bundled-up infant was placed in her lap and a bottle pushed into her hand.

“Feed him for me, wouldja?” Greg sighed, flopping back onto the sand. “I need a few more zees.”

Pearl blinked, frozen, until Steven had enough of waiting and screamed out his displeasure. “Like this,” Amethyst said from her side, shifted Steven from Pearl’s lap into the crook of her arm, held her hand over Pearl’s on the bottle. “He knows what he’s doing, just gotta hold it there for him.”

It was that easy, to feed him; hold the bottle, hold the baby, let him have what he wants. What she didn’t say, couldn’t explain, was the weight of him. He lay as heavy in her arm as that woman did, heavy as thousands of years pressing down on her like miles of alien ocean pressing down on the Reef. But Amethyst leaned lightly on her knee, a little smile on her face; Garnet sat at her elbow, stroking Steven’s downy hair with a fingertip. Greg, who was supposed to be sleeping, watched her with a surely misplaced expression of trust, and for the moment, Pearl found it in herself to keep her hands steady and her head up. Today. Just for today.

***

Everything changes. Beach City, Little Homeworld, Pearl herself...even the ocean seems a little different now. Pearl is sitting just above the edge of the water, in the wet sand where the tide retreated; Connie sits next to her, chin on her knees, watching the surf. They’re both resisting the urge to be inside, where they _want_ to be—Steven is sleeping, and Greg is in the living room on the phone with Dr. Maheshwaran. 

Connie’s been very calm. Calm when the Gems got home and found her and Greg there in the middle of the night, calm when she explained _why_ they were there as best she could, calm when Garnet and Amethyst brought the rest of their field trip group back to Little Homeworld, calm when Greg’s phone rang and Pearl steered her outside to give him some privacy.

“Sometimes...it’s a lot. Everything,” Connie says at last.

Pearl wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I know. And I know it doesn’t always feel like it, but you don’t have to carry it all. We’re here with you. The Gems, Greg, your parents...we make mistakes, but we love you. Very much.”

Connie takes a shaky breath and leans into Pearl’s arm. “I think I really hurt him.”

“Were you honest?” Pearl asks, stroking her hair; Connie nods. “Were you kind?” Connie hesitates, but finally nods again. “Then you did the right thing. It’s all right to advocate for yourself, for what you need, even when it’s hard. Steven’s hurting, but that’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either,” Connie replies, with less than total conviction. 

“I’m not sure that’s true. But what’s done is done; we have to keep moving forward, and fix what we can. For Steven, and for ourselves.” Connie nods. The tide, creeping back up the shore toward them, bubbles gently up to their shoes like a greeting; the sky is turning pink and orange as the sun slides up on the horizon, glittering across the water. The ocean doesn’t beckon Pearl, today; the scent, the sound, the rolling motion all soothe her frazzled nerves, bring her footing back to a place inside herself that grows steadier every day. Steady enough to hold her weight, and Connie’s, and as much of Steven’s as he’ll allow her. It’s a good start.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at a-big-apple.


End file.
